As Bailey turned toward her questioningly, Billy attempted to steal silently out of the door, apparently preferring any fears that might lurk in the darkness of the corridor to a further grilling on the subject of whom or what he had seen on the alcove stairs. But Bailey caught the movement out of the tail of his eye. “You stay here,” he commanded. Billy stood frozen. Beresford raised the candle so that it cast its light full in the Unknown’s face. “This chap claims to have lost his memory,” he said dubiously. “I suppose a blow on the head might do that, I don’t know.” “I wish somebody would knock _me_ on the head! _I’d_ like to forget a few things!” moaned Lizzie, but the interruption went unregarded. “Don’t you even know your name?” queried Miss Cornelia of the Unknown. The Unknown shook his head with a slow, laborious gesture. “Not—yet.” “Or where you came from?” Once more the battered head made its movement of negation. “Do you remember how you got in this house?” The Unknown made an effort. “Yes—I—remember—that—all—right” he said, apparently undergoing an enormous strain in order to make himself speak at all. He put his hand to his head. “My—head—aches—to—beat—the—band,” he continued slowly. Miss Cornelia was at a loss. If this were acting, it was at least fine acting. “How did you happen to come to this house?” she persisted, her voice unconsciously tuning itself to the slow, laborious speech of the Unknown. “Saw—the—lights.” Bailey broke in with a question. “Where were you when you saw the lights?” The Unknown wet his lips with his tongue, painfully. “I—broke—out—of—the—garage,” he said at length. This was unexpected. A general movement of interest ran over the group. “How did you get there?” Beresford took his turn as questioner. The Unknown shook his head, so slowly and deliberately that Miss Cornelia’s fingers itched to shake him in spite of his injuries. “I—don’t—know.” “Have you been robbed?” queried Bailey with keen suspicion. The Unknown mumbled something unintelligible. Then he seemed to get command of his tongue again. “Everything gone—out of—my pockets,” he said. “Including your watch?” pursued Bailey, remembering the watch that Beresford had found in the grounds. The Unknown would neither affirm nor deny. “If—I—had—a—watch—it’s gone,” he said with maddening deliberation. “All my—papers—are gone.” Miss Cornelia pounced upon this last statement like a cat upon a mouse. “How do you know you _had_ papers?” she asked sharply. For the first time the faintest flicker of a smile seemed to appear for a moment on the Unknown’s features. Then it vanished as abruptly as it had come. “Most men—carry papers—don’t they?” he asked, staring blindly in front of him. “I’m dazed—but—my mind’s—all—right. If you—ask me—I—think—I’m—d-damned funny!” He gave the ghost of a chuckle. Bailey and Beresford exchanged glances. “Did you ring the house phone?” insisted Miss Cornelia. The Unknown nodded. “Yes.”